


pyre

by fatiguedfern



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Introspection, anyway there's suggestive themes but really nothing incredibly nsfw, physical intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:05:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatiguedfern/pseuds/fatiguedfern
Summary: If Ann is fire, Shiho can't help but think it might be best to let herself be consumed.





	pyre

Ann is flame, Shiho recalls as she feels Ann’s hands lock behind the back of her head, settling against Shiho’s nape. 

She faintly remembers the origin of the analogy, remembering an Ann whose face had been unmarred by the shadow Kamoshida’s presence had cast over their lives, proudly shoving a middle school assigned essay in her younger self’s face. There hadn’t really been any malice in the action, just excitement and the want to earn some sort of pride from Shiho in response to her shameless boasting. Ann had demanded that she read the tale she’d spun well enough to earn her the praise of their then tight-lipped teacher. Shiho had barely been able to make out the foreign words scrawled onto the page, but between the broken phrases she caught and the plot points Ann rambled about, she’d caught the gist of it.

Ann had written about a little matchbox flame that had since been abandoned by the original people who had thought to spark it. On occasion, they’d returned, but their visits had been few and had done little to fuel the flame’s light. Faces had come and gone, briefly huddling by the warmth and light the flame had brought about, but never fully reaching out to it. The story had ended hopefully, with a little girl thrusting her hands straight into the flame, certain that the flame would not burn her. And it hadn’t, it’d heated her palms, and in turn with the girl’s trust bestowed in it, the flame had shone brighter than ever before.

Shiho hadn’t really thought much of the tale then, in that exact moment, and had told Ann as much. “What kind of an idiot sticks their hands directly into a fire,” she’d said blankly. And Ann had pouted and grumbled, but they’d moved on, walking each other home. But nothing had been able to shake the lingering sense of familiarity the story had left behind if she thought back on it. Still, she hadn’t expected it to stick. It had. 

The comparison had come later, when hindsight came into play and with it brought clarity. It’d quickly become apparent that the flame was merely a projected image of Ann written by no one other than herself all along. The girl’s identity had been figured out soon thereafter, and Shiho had scoffed at the thought of herself as filling the role, yet understood all the same. The world and even Ann herself could keep their image of something any more or less than an average human reflected onto Ann, but to her younger self Ann had been her friend, plain and simple.

Now, however, with Ann pressed flush against her, Shiho can’t help but feel like she’s never understood the story so well. Ann’s changed. She’s changed. Their very relationship has shifted. They’ve become both more and less than what they once were. More in the sense that when Ann presses a trail of moth-winged kisses along her jawline and follows through by drawing her into a kiss deeper than the day’s previous skin-deep pecks, the movement isn’t at all alien to Shiho. Less in the sense that when Ann’s grip shifts so that one palm skims the shirt-clad area of her hip and the other cups Shiho’s face so that their eyes are level and Shiho can see the questioning glint in sparked in Ann’s half-lidded eyes, Ann can’t seem to tell that the hasty nod of consent Shiho gives her is frantic and steeped in fear. Things aren’t quite as plain and simple anymore as when they were younger, and it’s natural that Ann would need to rely on Shiho’s voiced input to know when things run deeper than the surface level. This isn’t knowing that when Shiho says that she’s alright with skipping middle school volleyball practice to stand in line at the new crêpe place she really isn’t, but she’s willing to indulge Ann every once in a while regardless of the faces she pulls at the prices. This is something different altogether. This is something where the wound is still raw but buried beneath enough salt that Ann can’t quite see the skinless gashes. The worst part of all of it, Shiho supposes, is that she knows she shouldn’t really fear Ann. Ann is fire, yes, but her flame wouldn’t lash out to harm Shiho. No, Ann is warmth and light and Shiho is no fool to stick her hands directly into the open flame, her mind reassures, leaning upon old comforts. 

The comparison itself is still a pleasantly nostalgic thing, worn through the years of their friendship, yet remaining consistently applicable. It’s a childish thought to cling to, a childish thought picked from a child’s made up tale. Shiho might almost feel silly about recalling it now, while warm hands slip beneath the hem of her shirt, but if the nights spent cursing herself while the IV drip plugged directly into her vein remained all that sustained her had taught her anything, it’s that dismissing things as minor nagging thoughts could lead to nothing but burnout.

Ann is fire incarnate, crackling and smouldering as she moves to help settle Shiho into a position where her back’s pinned to the mattress and body straddled between Ann’s hips as she herself peers down at Shiho through the bilow of blonde hair she’d shaken loose at some point. Ann’s hands haven’t left Shiho’s skin during the entirety of the process, always finding some way to maintain contact, so desperately trying to clutch at some form of tangibility it’s as if she’s scared Shiho might slip through her fingers, dust in the wind. Shiho hates how the consistency feels smothering more so than reassuring, hates how it’s her failed five-second dive into a gravity-anchored flight that’s led to this in the first place.

Ann’s fingers run over her sides experimentally, as if skimming them through scalding bathwater. There’s nothing similar about Ann’s touch - which is somehow stuttering and cautious and hot and feathery all at once - to that of the ham-fisted grasp that had taken Shiho by her shoulders and roved and ripped and tore and took and took and took until the only thing that her darkest reflection had craved was to be laid to rest in a pool of her own blood on the concrete grounds of a school that she’d come to resent, her limbs spreading in a poor imitation of a dove whose wings had long since been clipped. But the contact remains contact regardless and in the moment there’s something suffocating about Ann’s persistent touch, now smoothly slipping across the skin just below the cotton sports bra Shiho had slipped on in her haste to welcome Ann after her hefty trip via train. Shiho chokes down a heavy breath of air. Ann is fire, and fire cauterizes bleeding wounds does it not?

Shiho exhales slowly, regaining her voice. “Wait.”

Ann’s hands immediately pull away from under Shiho’s shirt, her blown pupils widening further as she holds up her hands as if she’s just been caught shoplifting. “I-I’m so sorry! I totally didn’t mean to overstep and assume, but I-”  
“It’s fine,” Shiho cuts her off despite her ignited nerves protesting. “I just… Is it alright if I…” Shiho trails off, gesturing vaguely in a way that she hopes Ann can interpret as her wanting to switch positions.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course!” Ann exclaims, moving out of her position hovering above Shiho as quickly as humanly possible. “But, uh, are you sure you wanna, y’know, continue?” she tacks on, doubt and worry thick in her voice. 

“It’s fine.” It is. It really is, no matter what her impulses tell her. 

Shiho isn’t entirely sure where to start when she sits up to face Ann, but she supposes her neck is as good a place as any. Her grip on Ann is firm, and she’s only half aware of how she may be tightening her grip on her in order to avoid the tremors starting to jolt her fingers. She picks at the skin lightly, before nipping at the pale skin and sucking in with bruising strength. Ann yelps. Shiho retreats immediately. Too rough, too careless.

“Sorry, sorry,” she murmurs, face partially hidden behind her hand.

“It’s okay! I’ve had worse… Geez, just give a girl a warning though, yeah?”

Ann guides Shiho back into closer proximity, essentially bringing her into her lap.Shiho fiddles with the hem of Ann’s blouse. “Should I…”

“Oh! Yeah, um. If you want?” It would almost be entertaining to see Ann so clearly at something of a loss had it not been for the fact that she’s still struggling to keep her courage relatively intact.

Shiho’s breath hitches as her fingers fumble to undo the buttons of the blouse, her hands noticeably shaking. The buttons pop loose painstakingly slowly, but Ann stays painstakingly quiet until the very last button comes free. Her chest rises and falls at a moderate pace, her heart rate clearly heightened in comparison to what it usually thrums at, but still steady enough to ease Shiho a little. Shiho stares down at Ann’s chest, flushing despite herself and the fact that it isn’t the first time she’s seen Ann in a state of undress, however different it may have been the previous times. 

Ann’s body is more muscled, certainly, but one of the biggest changes are the scattering of scars attesting to many a scrapes and bruises. The faint abrasion marks running down her stomach catch Shiho’s attention. The marks almost seem to run down a relative solid line, but are already beginning to fade, losing their green hue altogether. Shiho frowns as she runs a tentative finger down the length of the patchy bruise, squinting to be able to notice the jagged pattern of the marks almost resembles that of a zipper zipped closed. She doesn’t say anything, and neither does Ann, the marks becoming yet another thing added to the things left up in the air between them and waiting for a discussion with an undefined due date. Shiho’s hand fall away and she struggles off of Ann’s lap and flops back onto the bed.

“I think that’s enough for today,” she says. Ann gives something of a relieved nod and shifts back onto the bed herself until only her side is pressed against Shiho’s.

Fire can cauterize wounds, but it can’t dress them or even apply antiseptic balm, Shiho notes. Ann can do only what she humanly can, regardless of how much both might wish it healed more. It could never be said that Ann isn’t trying, she knows. Her path to recovery has always been her own to walk, even if Ann had walked a good few miles of the way with her. Love won’t instantaneously heal everything, she thinks bitterly.

But as Ann’s fingers gently circle her wrist - fingers neither blazing or scorching, but simply warm and slightly sweaty - Shiho also can’t help but think that perhaps it still helps.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


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